So It All Comes Together

So It All Comes Together

The room was too dim to see my teacup. It was too light to tell if it was empty, or there was just a little left. I knew she needed the lights off so that she could see the stars. I understood that. The telescope worked better at night, in the middle of nowhere, it's glass pointed just below zenith. I got that inside and out and I didn't need to hear her explain it again. It didn't make me hate the darkness any less. I felt insignificant. I felt useless. Even worse, it didn't matter, because no matter how much I tried to explain this I was shut up under the banner of ignorance or intolerance. I blindly stared at my teacup. I assumed there was nothing in it and in my frustration I slammed the teacup on the side table. The remainder of my tea splashed onto my pants and nearly burned me sterile.

I jumped up and my mouth flew open. “Why?!”

She turned to me, wide eyed and her every joint sharp. After a second she settled underneath her sweater. “Don't do that. Please. I can't focus-”

“Why?!” I demanded. I was no quieter.

“Look, if this bothers you so much then go home.”

“Why do you matter so damn much?” I felt myself recoil. I was about to bite my tongue, but I figured it was already out. I finished what I started. “I don't know you, and I don't know why you matter so damn much to me. It's not how I work. This isn't what I do so why in hell do you mean so much?”

She was visibly confused. I watched her as she considered going back to her work and ignoring me. “You say you don't know who you are and yet you act the same.”

“I know exactly who I am.” I snapped. “But no one fucking believes me.”

“You want me to believe you're from outer space?” She leaned her hand on the telescope as if she was going back to it. “Are you shitting me? You're the one who asked me to coffee in High School. You're the one who pretended to take up astronomy. And now you want me to fucking believe you're an actual star. Dammit! The other shit was believable. For about a week. I can't tell if you like me or just like to mock anyone with a passion because apparently you don't have one. I didn't even feel guilty when you got in that car accident on the way home, you know that? You got in that accident because you fucking deserved it.”

Oh, the silence that followed; that raw, brutal silence. I was angry, and then I was distracted. My pants, the wet part, was starting to cool thanks to the open window around the telescope. I didn't notice it anymore. The darkness was trumped by the seething of the woman before me and so that bothered me less also. What she said hung over me and called the attention of my dreams.

“A car accident.” I repeated. I pointed at her, but only because I was thinking now and she had
prompted it. “I was in a car accident. I really was?”

“Yes.” I could hear the 'and you should have died in it' between the lines. “You drove off the side of the road. Into a field. You flipped the car and totaled it.”

“How bad was it totaled?”

“The engine was falling out.”

“How the hell did I manage that?”

“I don't know.”

“Did I say anything? Right before I crashed did I say anything?”

“I wasn't there.” She rolled her eyes. It was amusing because I could only see the whites of her eyes.

“The...” I waved my finger. Of course. “The!”

“You need sleep.”

“Yes. Yes I do. But first I need to borrow your car.”

“I am not okay with that.”

“When did I crash?”

“Ten something.” She walked away from me.

“When did the shooting star thing happen?”

“Ten twenty-three.”

I let that hang in the air. She turned to me after a moment with this weary expression. I was hoping that she was following my train of thought. She was handling the crazy well, but not following me.

I picked up my teacup and downed what I assumed was left. The cup was already empty. “I made a wish on me! That's what happened! I made a wish on me and that's-”

“Go home.” She said it like a sentence.

I opened my mouth and shut it again. I felt heavy. Despite the jubilant discovery she was unimpressed. Finally I had a premise on which everything could make sense and she wanted nothing to do with it.

I picked up my coat and made my way outside. I put on my gloves and struggled with my scarf. I was cold. I was always cold. I was no longer a star that made the light and heat that this woman loved to study. I died, and I fell. I was that shooting star. I was the man who wished upon it.

I thought that I would know what to do by now. Instead, I think I am a little more lost and bewildered than before.